


dreams arrive disguised as monsters.

by waterdeaths



Series: born to a childless age [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Don't let your Dads Be Dreams, Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterdeaths/pseuds/waterdeaths
Summary: Haku’s fear of failure culminates in a bad dream while traveling with Zabuza through the Land of Waves.





	dreams arrive disguised as monsters.

Control has always been important to Haku. Hyoton required staggering amounts of chakra to generate, let alone craft with, so much so that his first attempts with the jutsu had left him light-headed and shaking on the verge of chakra exhaustion. Controlling hyoton required an innate understanding of his chakra systems and physical limitations: how little chakra could he use to generate an offensive jutsu and still trigger it to maximum efficiency? How could he limit chakra expenditure while wearing an opponent down, so that when opportunity revealed itself he could end a battle in one blow? In life Zabuza was his master, but in battle they were partners, operating on equal footing. Haku’s every move was calculated to compliment and amplify Zabuza’s. Without the tight discipline he exerted upon himself, their deadly battlefield synchronized concert would be no more than a pallid squall.

But as much as he might believe otherwise, Haku is only human, and he cannot control everything. Especially not his dreams.

Particularly not _this_ one.

It’s a recurring dream. Sometimes it’s daytime in the dream, othertimes night, but it always begins in the forest. The air is cool and sharp with pine sap, running water. Cicadas drone below the earth, their whispers jittering up his legs into his chest, crinkly and itchy under his skin like the aftermath of a raiton jutsu. There’s no reason to know this, but he knows innately that they are talking about him, to him, in languages he cannot understand.

His mother’s shadow ghosts just behind the treeline, soft as owl-wing.

“What are you?” his mother whispers, and always, always the hint of fear in her voice clamps the back of his neck in an icy vice, clotting _Mother!_ in the back of his throat. Why was she afraid of him? Why was everyone afraid of him?

The cicada giggle, snicker, gobble up her refrain: What are you? What are you? What, what, what?

“Mother, it’s me,” he croaks, stepping toward her. But the air has grown cloudy and thick with cicada cries, stretching the light, pressing down on his head, neck, chest. Through the haze another shadow appears at the treeline, a man’s, stalking toward his mother. Haku begins to kick and press at nothingness. When he tries to move the air pushes back, forcing him to wade as if through syrup.

“It’s me, it’s Haku, your son. You used to — you used to call me your boy, remember?” 

_Your boy_ , the cicada sneer. His father is directly behind her now, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head even as the knife rises to her neck like a dream. _Poor boy. Poor boy, boy, boy._

“My boy. My poor boy,” she whispers, canting her head into the kiss, the open plains of her neck flashing white beneath a layer of grime, soft and human against the advance of cold steel. “That’s not what you are, now is it?”

_Is it?_ the cicadas chirp. _Is that what you are?_

_Yes,_ he wants to scream, but the air has forced itself into his mouth, drowning him on dry land. _I’m your son._

She shakes her head sadly, disappointment clouding faded features. “No, my love,” she says, as his father wrenches the knife across her neck and sighs, “No, you were never human,” only he is no longer Haku’s father but someone larger, darker, meaner, and —

“No.” Zabuza grunts, glancing down at the wrent throat cradled in his too-big hands with like something unfamiliar and undesired before letting her slide from his arms and slump to the forest floor. “You’re too slow.”

The forest rings with animal noise, and it is only after a moment that Haku recognizes it as his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Contextless Hurt/Comfort is my drink of choice.


End file.
